TVgasm Recaps

Not long ago I was sitting around, eating some cheese balls I believe, and thinking about what might be missing from my life. A healthy diet? A monkey butler? A lifetime supply of sporks? The entire series of Perfect Strangers on DVD? While each would make a welcome (and necessary) addition to my existence, I was surprised to discover that the real answer was in fact...a handful of gorgeous Texan teenagers whose lives revolve around high school football. Who knew?

As fate would have it, a television show matching that exact description came along and I was subsequently hooked. Friday Night Lights is good. Really good, in fact. With all of the hullabaloo surrounding Heroes and Ugly Betty I think this one has gotten overlooked, which is unfortunate because what we have here is quality programming, people. And this coming from a person who dislikes anything having to do with football, with the major exception of cheese-shaped hats. So here I present to you a brief summary of the story so far, and full recaps will begin with Tuesday's episode (8pm, NBC, be there).

NBC sure has had a weird roller coaster season. Studio 60, the self-proclaimed best television drama ever conceived by man, premiered and immediately nose-dived (nose-dove?). Heroes, on the other hand, was a little more quietly promoted, yet ended up being the breakout hit of the fall. 30 Rock, which I really want to find funny but somehow just can't, was also touted as being awesome and then went on to disappoint. And then we have Friday Night Lights - still largely unknown to lot of people I think, which is unfortunate because other than Heroes it's probably the best drama that NBC has at the moment (at least until The Donald returns, bringing drama of a more classy and luxurious nature).

Tuesday's episode was no exception. Just when I think I've recovered from last week's RENDING OF MY SOUL, it just goes and does it all over again. Between this and Battlestar we're all lucky enough to be able to get out of bed in the morning. Anyway, last week Jason found out about Lyla *cough bitch cough* cheating on him with Tim Riggins, whom he then awesomely punched in the face. Disabled my ASS. Also, Smash started taking steroids, the Riggins brothers duked it out, and Matt Saracen asked Julie Taylor out on a date, causing the Taylor 'Rental Units to adorably freak the fuck out.

Not since The 24 Seasons 1-4 Bauer Power Marathon of Spring '05 That Almost Caused Me To Lose All Touch With Reality has one television show consistently made me vomit in joy and utter happiness, but I'm happy to say that the dry spell has now ended. That illustrious award is now firmly lodged in the supple, skilled hands of Friday Night Lights. This week's episode further annihilated my soul to the point of extinction, while at the same time nearly caused a laughter-related choking catastrophe. Seriously, what else can do that, other than perhaps any given episode of The Joy of Painting starring the irrepressible Bob Ross?

What better way to start off the new year than by not watching another awesome episode of Friday Night Lights? Because according to the ratings that's what everyone is doing. Or maybe it's football season and all of its regulars are switching over to actual football instead of the average five minutes of it that this show provides. Either way, I fear that it's catching the dreaded Veronica Mars Syndrome and in the future could be facing cancellation because America prefers According to Jim over quality television.

Okay, weekly rant done and beer bottle thrown across room. On to the recap.

Most of my ignorant acquaintances tend to be surprised when I tell them that Friday Night Lights airs on Wednesdays. Well, proverbial stupid people, do you only eat sundaes on Sundays? Do you only listen to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack on Saturdays? Do you only go to T.G.I. Friday's on Fridays? The answer is no. No one goes to T.G.I. Friday's. My point is, I'm hungry.

Hey look! A recap!

Dear NBC,
Please move Friday Night Lights to another time slot. If it stays where it is right now it's going to die a slow painful death due to American Idolitis. Granted, I enjoy this horrific disease as much as the next glutton for punishment, but I'm just not ready for it to take the life of my innocent young sapling. I would like to be able to enjoy both programs, and for that to happen you need to do something about this little pickle we've found ourselves in. For Pete's sake, swap it with Deal or No Deal over on Mondays before Heroes. Everyone wins, except for Howie Mandel, which means that we win even more.

We begin this week with a delightful Taylor family scene. Is there any other kind? They're in the car and not listening to the expositional sports radio show for once. Instead, they've got some sort of call-in Dr. Phil crap going, much to the chagrin of a helpless Coach. He tries to change it, but the Taylor women doth protest too much, insisting that his sports shows are just "stress in a bottle." Coach, realizing that he's been estrogenically licked once again, gives up and lets the advice wash over him like so many bottles of hair gel. Cut to the field, where Coach recycles that very same advice to his plucky team of playoff hopefuls.

Ah, Wednesday. The day the world catches its breath. Well, no, not really. It's really the day with so much television on that my poor little Zenith with-built in VCR can barely handle it. But it enables me to catch up with my boys over on Friday Night Lights, so I guess I won't be kicking it to the curb anytime soon.

After a rather long intro recapping pretty much everything that has ever happened on this show, we begin this week's episode with a cookout at the Garritys'. I'm hoping that Buddy has personally shot and killed every single thing they're eating, including the potato salad, but alas it never comes up. Why? Because Jason starts to describe his burgeoning wheelchair rugby career, which Buddy responds to with, what else, snark. And when Buddy dons his patronizing asshole hat, you know shit's gonna get ugly. He says that it's only a hobby and it's no way to make a living, and since he's all pissed that the kid's family is suing the team, there's clearly just no reasoning with this man. Jason goes ballistic anyway, as he is wont to do, and somehow decides he's going to win this argument by announcing that he and Lyla are getting married. Apparently Lyla hasn't divulged this little nugget of information to her hapless parents yet, so the entire party disbands, which is a real shame because it looked like a potentially rockin' shindig.

Man. Friday Night Lights, tackling the issues. This week's episode provided us with a healthy dose of racism, a dash of sexism, a pinch of disabledism, and a smattering of Landryism. But no smoke monsters. Sorry, kids.

We start off as we rarely do: with a football game! Usually it takes place towards the end of the episode, when my heart is too broken to care. But they're being all shady and starting out full force this week, just to keep me on the ball. Pretty sneaky, sis. Football, football, football. The Panthers win 30-10!! And yes, you're hearing correctly: one of the announcers does yell "What in tarnation?!"

This week's Friday Night Lights comes with a Dramatic Language Warning. Which can mean only one of two things: a) some dramatic language will aid in the dramatization of some sort of drama, in this, a television drama series, or b) the censors have forgotten the meaning of the word. I mean, I have, after typing it so many times. Either way, I'm ready for some excitement.

We begin this week with our boy Smash getting himself in over his head. Nothing new here. He's holding a press conferenece on the porch of his house, surrounded by the other black players and a horde of nosy reporters. As the press, well, presses him about the Mac McGill scandel, he fumbles a little when it comes to whether or not the black players are given an equal amount of opportunities on the field. Actually, um, they are. But it's about the ATTITUDE, man! Just fire Mac, is the point he's trying to make. What, does he have to draw a picture for you?

You know when you have a really good friend, and then that good friend becomes something more, and then you date for a while and at some point you just know you're destined to be together forever and you ask for that friend's hand in marriage? Well, that's what has happened for me, and the name of that friend is Friday Night Lights. You'll all be invited to the wedding.

We begin this week in some shithole bar, where Tim and his father are shooting pool with a bunch of evil rednecks. I'm just impressed that they were able to wrangle that pool table away form the National Quad Rugby Team. Team Riggins wins and Dad demands $100 from the loser, who accuses him of hustling. Tim throws a pool ball at the big galoot, who then flips out and starts beating him up. Tyra, concerned, asks his father if he's going to, you know, stop the ruthless beating of his 17-year-old son, but he just sits back and says that he can handle it. The owner breaks up the fight, so the loser pays up and leaves. Whatever, Tyra could kill you all.

I just stumbled across an awesome intenet ad campaign for KFC. They're promoting a contest titled "What's In The Box?", which is just hilarious because it makes me think of the movie Seven. And it works both ways - either the movie ends with Brad Pitt begging to see what's in the box and is relieved to see that it's just a few wings and a biscuit, or a child orders a delicious meal from her favorite chicken restaurant only to find a severed head. Ah, good times. Also, Friday Night Lights was awesome this week.

We begin at the game that, if won, will take our beloved Dillon Panthers to the State Semi-finals. It's the last few minutes of the game and they're up by 4. The other team has the ball and if they complete this pass, they'll get a touchdown and win the game. Aaaand they choke and our boys win! Anyone surprised? The announcer screams "Someone jump start my heart because I think I just died! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" I join in until my neighbors tell me to knock it off.

Okay, kids. This was the first of the last three episodes of Friday Night Lights for rest of the season. Hopefully not for the rest of...our lives. It's no secret that this show is in danger of being cancelled, apparently because NBC (and God) hates me. So watch the damn show, dammit! COME ON! Alright, I suppose if you're reading this I'm preaching to the choir, and I appreciate your recognition of the total brilliance of this show. So I'm sorry. Just - tell your friends, okay? OKAY? God I'm stressed. If my Coach is taken away from me forever I might just have to take a bath with a toaster.

Anyway. Coach and Tami are looking over some real estate listings for their big move to Austin. Tami is reading some aloud, while Coach offers some helpful comments such as "Sounds like a money pit" and "Turn of what century?". GOD, he's funny. Julie walks in and happens to overhear her mother say something about getting a new job, and says with a horrible realization (and a perfect delivery), "We're moving again, aren't we?" Poor kid. Tami fills her in on the whole TMU thing, and Julie insists that she's not going anywhere. And storms off. Like she does every episode. But it doesn't get old! How does she do that?

So, THIS is the third-to-last episode of Friday Night Lights for the season, not last week's, as I previously said. Erroneously. I must have been blinded by all of the brilliant television and fantastic acting and the several hours of gushing I do each day. Yeah, that must be it. Hey, if it means we get one more episode, I'm all for it. For what? I don't know. Think about THAT.

We begin this week with an outrageously naked seventeen-year-old waking up in the bed of a salacious thirtysomething. That's right, it's little Timmy Riggins, and it appears that he has scored a touchdown of a very different sort. "Wow, that's illegal," I tell my television, as if it has any idea what it's displaying to me. I am also reminded of last week's final line in the episode, wherein MILF told Tim that Bo can never know. Um, try the police? The POLICE can never know??

Okay, kids. We're down to the second-to-last episode of our beloved Friday Night Lights. The powers that be have already renewed 30 Rock for a second season, and now all eyes are yet again on NBC, waiting on a decision as to whether or not the Panthers are going to survive to see another year. Meanwhile, on the show, shit is getting critical. Not to mention the fact that I breathed in a bunch of toxic fumes from a tragic trainwreck in the northeast sector of my high school, and that's why the recap is so late. What a week! Let's not waste any more time!

Coach and Tami are asleep in bed. Well, Coach is asleep, and Tami decides to wake him up. He freaks out because he thinks that he missed his flight, but she reassures him that she's fine, she just wants to talk, which causes Coach to get a rather murderous look in his eye. Hehe. She tells him she has a bad feeling about moving to Austin, and begs him not to give them a definite answer at the meeting today. Then the alarm goes off, and he moans, "I'm going to KILL you." Oh no you won't! Because you luuuurve her!

Wow. Okay...wow. The big Friday Night Lights season finale. I thought it was wonderful. A beautiful finale to a beautiful season of a beautiful series. OH THE BEAUTY! The word on the street is that NBC has ordered six scripts for next season, but since they have made no formal announcement about renewal yet, we're still somewhat in the dark. But it's a good sign, my friends. So let's get right into it. WE'RE GOING TO STATE!

Smash and the boys are leading a giant parade/pep rally through Dillon. The town is going nuts. The girls are dancing. The streamers are flying. The boobs are flashing. Well, I guess not that last one. Dillon does not equal New Orleans. Yet. Over in a news interview, Matt is being quite cordial about the big game coming up, but Smash swoops in and starts talking all sorts of trash about the Mustangs and Voodoo Tatum, the past teammate with whom the bad blood has not simmered down even a little bit. TENSION!

Friday Night Lights is back! Anyone survive the summer without it?

Not bloody likely!

I, for one, barely made it out alive. It took at least a month after the season finale to wipe that PANTHERS WIN STATE grin off my face. And season 1 DVDs not coming out until the end of August? Torture. I filled the void by receiving two Dillon t-shirts for my birthday. I win!

State!

Well! The season premiere of Friday Night Lights sure did set off a lively debate. The murder plotline: liked by some, hated by others. Coach's hair, however: loved by all.

The Coach-hawk

I happened to catch a rerun of 24 the other day, and it was one of the episodes at the beginning of Season 5, where Jack returns from living with that random woman and her stupid son. So Audrey, pre-mental breakdown, is flitting around CTU and is approached by this woman Diane, who wants to know if she plans on shacking up with her man Jack. And do you know who that woman was?

Our girl Tami!

First this, and now Aaron. Who else will be making the jump from 24 to Friday Night Lights? Bill Buchanan, I'm looking in your direction!

Forget about Jack, hon. You've upgraded.

This week on Friday Night Lights, we learned that Mexico + alcohol + teenage boys = hilarity. In fact, I'm heading down there right now. I've kidnapped a couple of good-looking adolescent lads, pumped them full of Jack Daniels, and plan to spend the next 48 hours being endlessly entertained by their antics. Go, drunk kids, go!

Ugh. That is all I have to say about this week's episode of Friday Night Lights. Just ugh.

I'm not sure what happened, but all of a sudden everything sucked. Except the Taylors, who were delightful as always. Everyone else - dead to me. I'm looking at you, writers. I know you wrote this episode long before the strike began, so there's no excuse. Lay off the late night Red Bull.

And apologies for the lateness. I got way behind this week and almost decided not to write this recap, but then caved anyway, if for no other reason that to loudly complain about how awful it was. Join me, won't you?

Sweet sassy molassy! I'm proud to report that Friday Night Lights was back in fine form this week. The Taylors were on fire, Buddy Garrity bought a pig, and no one Lieutenant Danned off the side of a boat. I officially declare last week's trainwreck to be a complete fluke. Now let us never speak of it again.

And sorry again for the lateness. This week there was a plethora of technical difficulties to contend with. I'm know, I know, I'm full of excuses. Just call me Tim Riggins. Now let's get this going, I have a three-way to get to.

Dude, wait, Thanksgiving's over? Damn you, tryptophan coma!

Or: I meant to write this recap before I went out of town for Thanksgiving, but it just wasn't in the cards. Also not in the cards: a stress-free Thanksgiving. Our oven decided to crap out halfway through the turkey cooking, so my sister and I were woken up at the crack of dawn and ordered to rush the bird over to my grandmother's house to cook it the rest of the way in her oven. So we slapped a siren on the roof, threw on some paramedic uniforms, carefully loaded the precious cargo into the Turkey Ambulance, and screamed across town. Good news: the patient was saved, and was delicious.

But not as delicious as Friday Night Lights!

As there were no turkey emergencies this week, I sadly have no fun intro story to share with you. So I'll just put up the link to the best Public Service Announcement ever. Thanks, Canada! See you in my nightmares!

Or, should I say, Friday Night Lights-mares?

No. No, I shouldn't.

I just rediscovered the lost magic of the lava lamp. It's been sitting on my desk for quite some time, but I almost never think to turn it on. Now it's back to full capacity, bubbling and swirling and glowing like it was born to do. You see, football is like a lava lamp...

(five hours and several drinks later)

...so, wait, so what I'm trying to say here, is what I'm trying to say, is that the Friday Night Lights were awesome this week. Spring break 2000!!!1

We're back! Hope everyone had a nice holiday. I did. I'm happy to report that in addition to a Crucifictorious t-shirt, I also received the Friday Night Lights soundtrack. I am UNhappy to report that the dang thing does not include the opening credits theme song. Who do I have to bang around here to get that damn song? Tim Riggins, you say? I begrudgingly accept.

So I was thinking the other night, while catching a few glimpses of the very snowy Packers - Seahawks game and downing handfuls of fried pickles (don't knock 'til you've tried), that it might be fun for our Panthers to take a field trip up to Canada and watch them run around in the snow. Think of the possibilities! Coach with tufts of snowflakes in his Eyebrows. Little Matty Saracen making a snow angel. Tim Riggins building a snowman, then having sex with that snowman. Ah, good times.

But for now, it looks like our Friday Night Lightswill have to remain steamy and Texasy.

This week on Friday Night Lights, we learn that all teenagers are jerks, except for those who claim Jesus as their homeboy.

I don't know if they've been doing this all along and I've just missed it, but last night's episode of American Gladiators featured a cast list during the credits with the gladiators' real names. The whole thing was at times intriguing (Justice's real name is, in fact, Justice) and disappointing (Titan is just plain old Mike? Boooo), but the best stuff, as usual, came from Wolf, whose real name is....Hollywood Yates.

Hollywood. Yates.

You ruminate on the awesomeness of that while I go ahead and recap this week's Friday Night Lights.

I feel like I should make some mention of the Super Bowl in this week's recap of Friday Night Lights, but I'm failing to see any sort of connection. Friday Night Lights contains no football, and the Super Bowl contains no Tim Riggins. But you know what does? Snakes on a Plane. Seriously, he's the one having sex in the restroom. I tried for about a half hour to find a decent (and non-nudity) screencap, but failed. So you may enjoy my own interpretation instead.

So this is it, kids. Last episode of Friday Night Lights until...I don't know. Now that the strike is over there are some disturbing rumors floating around that it won't make it back. Hopefully they'll be able to bang out some more for the spring or summer, or, failing that, at least return next fall. God, I hope so. Perhaps we can just WILL them back onto the screen like we did at the end of Season 1. Just keep saying your prayers. Three Hail Tamis and an Our Father Who Art In Dillon.